Academia...

Academia is a wonderful world. Graduate school Ah. The high life. Um…

I had to call Kristine. I’m not sure if it’s with a C or a K and if it ends in E or not. Who gives a fuckity fuck (learned that from another blogger. LOVE IT!). I explained my stats.

I explained them again.

And again.

And again.

I’m moving. No. I don’t live there. I live here. Where? Here. Not there. Here.

We were disconnected.

Hi. Kristine. Can I help you?

I explained again.

And again.

And again.

Okay. Welcome to the Graduate school of fuckity fuck. Great. How do I register? Come in. No. I don’t live there. I live here. I don’t live there. I’m mooooooving there. I’m heeeere now.

I said it really slowly just to be an ass. I silently wonder if she has my degree. Any degree?

Didn’t work. It’s in the mail. Where I don’t know. But it’s in the mail.

Then I call Stacey. She’s the secretary. The gatekeeper that I must pass. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. No Stacey. That was last week. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. No Stacey. That was two days ago. Ring…oh fuckity fuck you get the point. No Stacey. It’s day 14.

Where’s Stacey? I can’t get through the gate if there isn’t a gatekeeper answering her phone. Do you know Stacey? Where is she? I need to speak with her. Now.

I love academia. The higher the education the better. That’s what I’m paying 10 G’s a semester for. No?